Chapter 66

“Then?” He shoved me aside forcefully, preparing to pass by me. In that instant, he grabbed the sash of my nightgown and yanked it open. The silk gown slipped from my smooth shoulders, exposing my full, fair body before his eyes. I froze, and so did he… His gaze lingered on my chest for three seconds before he roughly pushed me onto the bed and lunged at me like a wild beast. I struggled fiercely, but I was no match for him. His body pressed sideways against my legs and hands, pinning me like a bound scarecrow, utterly immobile. My heart pounded wildly, and an indescribable anticipation surged through me. Was it revenge against my husband? Was it a stirring of lust? I didn’t know! All I knew was that I truly felt an odd comfort, a warmth in being pressed beneath him, a sense of reliance. My mind was a mess—I didn’t know if I should push him away, but I really didn’t want to. “Give me a reason!” I told myself. “Hmm! I’ve had too much to drink!” I chuckled inwardly at my own self-deception. So I decided to relax and give myself a pleasurable night. Limp and soft, I lay beneath him, letting him have his way. Shyly, I closed my eyes and surrendered to his whims.

His lips and tongue crushed against my tender red lips, savoring my smooth, fragrant lip tips, sucking at my saliva. His kiss left me lightheaded, my whole body weak and pliant—even if I’d wanted to resist, I doubt I could have. He seemed quite pleased with my response, lifting his head to smile. His smile was so captivating, brimming with an indescribable charm that was utterly mesmerizing. My heart fluttered, and I couldn’t help but lean my lips toward him, offering myself like a sacrifice to a man I was infatuated with. I writhed, pressing closer, yearning for him to enter me. As our bodies touched, I felt his potent masculine aura, and my face flushed even redder. But after his initial assault, his kisses gradually softened, and I found myself slowly enjoying the way his tongue slithered like a little snake between my lips and teeth. In that moment, I almost forgot he was a vile burglar who’d broken in. In this perilous little room, I was a lonely woman withering away, and he was a passionate man. He and I, in a fleeting daze, before morality and shame could intervene, had stolen a few minutes from life to lose ourselves in abandon. Unknowingly, his kisses had slid past my belly, and I felt his hot breath puffing against my inner thighs. Shyly, I clamped my legs shut. “Open your legs!” His tone was both lingering and forceful. Hearing it, a wave of heat involuntarily washed over my entire body—I knew I could no longer resist. He teased my hips with his touch, kissed my breasts, and I trembled all over, my thoughts in chaos. Before I knew it, he’d buried his head between my legs… “Ah… oh my god…” I simply couldn’t endure his caresses—no man had ever done this to me before. I desperately tried to clamp my thighs shut to stop his further advances, but I failed. Under the deft teasing of his tongue, I lost myself.

“Ah… stop it…” I cried out wildly, fighting the surging desire within me. The intense stimulation twisted my body, my hands clutching my nearly bursting breasts, my arched belly rising and falling in rhythm with his movements. Waves of lust crashed against my flesh, and my soft, smooth thighs stretched tautly into the air. Finally, he lifted his body, swiftly stripping off his clothes. Before his imposing male erection, I seemed utterly helpless. He knelt between my legs, lifting my thighs with his hands, his rigid member prodding at my sensitive spot again and again. I couldn’t help but writhe, opening my private space to ready myself for his entry. “Ah…” At last, he entered—gently, softly, probing. The ample wetness made it almost painless. He didn’t fully plunge in right away, just slowly thrusting there. The inner walls of my body quivered, as if cheering his arrival. I squirmed involuntarily, craving to engulf him entirely. I felt him growing stronger, and with each thrust, he pressed deeper into me until he was completely sheathed within my flesh.

“Oh…” I moaned wantonly, feeling the force inside me. He thrust unhurriedly, as if savoring a lavish feast. His hands roamed freely over my body, exploring every corner, tormenting my flesh, forcing me to moan and beg for his gift. “Oh… come on… fuck me… ah… baby…” His pace quickened, the flames of lust scorching my body, the blazing heat threatening to melt everything I was. At the moment of climax, I utterly abandoned my body and mind, recklessly crying out lewd words that would make anyone blush—something unimaginable for me normally. I didn’t know what I was doing; I just wanted to fully savor this moment.

Suddenly, I heard his low, restrained voice: “Do you feel good? If not, tell me.” Back when I was intimate with my first boyfriend, he used to ask the same thing. That simple, familiar phrase instantly ignited my body with fiery passion. I felt like I was grasping for something, but I caught nothing. I just yearned so desperately, so intensely, and then his body entered me. A complete sense of fullness and satisfaction washed over me—something I’d never felt with my husband. His fervor met my compliance, and I was like a fish drowning in water, deeply submerged by him. Much later, he got up to straighten his clothes and said, “I’ll pay you back, but don’t report this.” His voice was still low, but no longer icy. Before he finished speaking, he leaped back onto the windowsill, agilely disappearing into the night.

Still in shock, I immediately dialed 110. Before the call connected, I dejectedly gave up. This villain knew my home—if I reported him, he’d surely come for revenge, and I couldn’t bear to imagine the outcome. TV had already shown plenty of tragic endings where victims were retaliated against. Now, the only person I could turn to was my husband, but his phone was unreachable. On my fifth attempt, the same gentle yet cold female voice came through: “The subscriber you dialed is not in the service area.” I hurled my phone to the floor in fury. With the sound of it shattering, my heart instantly broke into pieces, and tears of humiliation streamed down my face.

I lay back on the bed. The scene just now felt like a short TV drama—thrilling, tense, and tinged with unreality. But the bed was no longer the same bed, because of that man just now, a despicable burglar. Everything was different from before.

A sleepless night. Early in the morning, as soon as I arrived at work, Qingqing, who’d walked past me and then doubled back, scrutinized me and said, “Hehe, sis, did my brother-in-law pamper you last night? You’re glowing.” I shot her a glare, not wanting to talk. Seeing my blank expression, she wisely walked away. I secretly pulled out a small mirror and indeed found my complexion rosy and radiant. Thinking back to last night, it really was a close call—if it had been a vicious thug, today’s headlines would probably read: “Burglar Invades Home in a Certain Neighborhood, Stabs Female Owner to Death; Case Under Investigation,” and so on. All day, I drifted through a haze of unease and confusion, even standing in class in a daze. I didn’t really want to go back to that home, but after a whole day of thinking, I couldn’t come up with a better place to go. Hesitantly, I boarded the bus home. My husband still hadn’t returned. He sent a text saying something urgent had come up with the project and he’d gone to S City last night, would be gone about a month, and told me to take care of myself. I smiled faintly and deleted his message.

That evening, I closed all the windows early, double-checking them several times before drawing the curtains. I turned on every light in the house, big and small, then shut the bedroom door and climbed onto my big bed, tucking a Mongolian knife under the pillow. Pressing down on it, I could feel its cold hardness, which gave me a faint sense of security. The bedspread and blanket were still from yesterday—I couldn’t be bothered to change them. Deep down, I was somewhat reluctant to swap them out.

In the darkness, I couldn’t sleep. The pillow still carried the lingering scent of that man from last night. His body had been so fervent, his movements so gentle, and even his invasive kisses were wild and hauntingly memorable. With my husband, he’d never been that passionate or that considerate. But a thirty-year-old woman, from body to soul, craves a more tender and attentive intimacy. Yet to receive it—and even miss it—in such a way made me somewhat despise myself. Still, subconsciously, I harbored a faint hope, wishing that man would climb the high scaffolding again some midnight and return to my room. The building’s reinforcement work was nearing its end, and scaffolding in some areas was already being dismantled. That man never came back, and my heart sank with disappointment night after hopeful night. Honestly, it wasn’t the 3,000 yuan I cared about—I just wanted to see him again.

That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep until after midnight. Suddenly, I heard the curtains rustle, and a figure agilely leaped down from the window. Before I could make him out, he was already standing before me. It was an exceptionally handsome face. He said, “Sis, the construction here wraps up tomorrow. I came today to return the money.” With that, he handed over a clean kraft paper envelope. Looking at me, his face flushed, he said, “Can I hold you one more time?” I hesitated and nodded, the pent-up little desires deep inside me spilling into my gaze. He stepped forward and gently wrapped his arms around me. That familiar tobacco scent pushed the rising lust within me to its peak. I clung to him tightly, afraid he’d vanish in that moment. Suddenly, a thunderous knocking at the door startled us both. Uneasily, he let go of me. I said, “I’ll go check.” He straightened his clothes and deliberately stepped behind the wardrobe. I opened the front door to find two policemen standing there. Startled, I asked, “What’s going on?” The police said, “Someone called to report a thief climbing into your place from the scaffolding downstairs. We came to check.” My heart lurched, and I immediately thought of him inside. I quickly said, “That can’t be—how would I not know? I’ve been here the whole time, and no one’s come in. The caller must’ve been mistaken. Thank you.” The two officers exchanged glances and said, “Oh, that’s possible. As long as you’re sure you’re safe, it’s fine. Call us if anything comes up.” Then they hurried downstairs.

After closing the door, I returned to the room to find him standing there, looking utterly uneasy and awkward from head to toe, as if he’d turned into a completely different, unfamiliar man. A wave of inexplicable disgust washed over me. I didn’t know how my feelings had shifted so quickly—I just wanted him gone. I said, “Leave.” He looked embarrassed, nodded in agreement, and headed for the window. Impatiently, I snapped, “Can’t you use the front door?” He glanced at me, seemed about to say something but held back, then walked to the door, opened it, and went straight downstairs. Listening to his fading footsteps, I slumped down, unsure whether to laugh or cry. I opened the envelope he’d given me—inside was a stack of cash, exactly 3,000 yuan. A slip of paper fluttered out: “Borrowed your money, now I’m returning it. Thank you for not reporting me. You’re a kind woman.” I sat there stunned, the money slipping from my hands like a jumble of bittersweet thoughts.

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Chapter 37

The Romantic Escapades of Classical Beauties

One day, in a certain month of a certain year, I woke up to find I’d gained the extraordinary ability to travel through time and space. My body was stronger and more agile than before, brimming with vitality; my handsome face had acquired a mature charm that drove women wild. I decided to return to the eras where those classical beauties lived…

1. Zheng Dan

In Xiaoshan, Zhejiang, at the foot of Zhuluo Mountain, a small stream meandered by, crystal clear to the bottom. Every morning at sunrise, groups of young women carrying baskets full of fine yarn would come here to wash. The colorful carp in the stream, long accustomed to the scene, showed no fear and swam around the girls, frolicking.

“Hey, isn’t that the Shi family’s little sister from West Village? Is this your first time washing yarn here?” a beautiful young woman called out with a smile.

“Yes, Sister Zheng Dan,” the Shi girl replied.

“Come over here by me, and watch out—the fish in this stream might just gobble up a delicate little thing like you,” Zheng Dan teased. In truth, Zheng Dan herself was a delicate beauty, though slightly plumper than Xi Shi.

Xi Shi smiled, set down her basket, removed her long skirt and shoes, rolled up her pant legs, stepped into the water, and bent over to wash the yarn.

I hid in a concealed spot across the stream, directly facing the washing girls. Back then, there were no bras—they only wore chest wraps. So whenever they bent over, their entire fair breasts and pink nipples were fully exposed, making my little brother utterly uncontrollable, eager and restless.

Just as I was fantasizing about these girls’ exquisite bodies, I heard Zheng Dan exclaim, “Oh, look! The fish are so ashamed by the Shi sister’s beauty that they’re sinking to the bottom!”

All the girls laughed and chimed in, “Isn’t that the truth? Who told the Shi sister to be so gorgeous!”

Xi Shi blushed, ignoring their teasing, and continued washing the yarn with her head down. As they were nearly done, someone started splashing water, and soon everyone joined in. The girls wore thin clothes, and before long, they were all drenched, their garments clinging to their bodies and outlining their youthful curves.

“Everyone, look! The Shi sister’s body is so beautiful!”

Xi Shi was soaked from head to toe, her thin clothes plastered to her skin. Her two not-large but firm breasts, along with their brown areolas and pink nipples, were fully visible. Below her flat belly was a sparse patch of pubic hair, and her plump mound jutted out, with her pink labia tightly closed—clearly a virgin’s body.

“Sister Zheng Dan is stunning too!”

Unlike Xi Shi, Zheng Dan’s breasts, by modern standards, were a full 36D, proudly erect, with nipples slightly larger than Xi Shi’s. Her pubic hair clung below her belly in a dark patch, covering her labia and leaving only the elegant curve of her mound visible. But Zheng Dan’s most beautiful feature was her pair of long, shapely legs—full, well-proportioned, white as frost and snow, smooth as congealed fat. Truly the finest legs of the Warring States era, breathtakingly beautiful.

Just as I was admiring this boundless spring scenery of beauties, I heard a long laugh: “Haha, what a vivid picture of spring!”

The girls turned pale with fright, flustered, and hurriedly grabbed their outer clothes to put on, snatching up their baskets to flee. Xi Shi and Zheng Dan were a bit slower, and in the chaos, someone had mixed up their clothes, leaving them lost. Seeing Wu Ye leering at their nearly naked bodies with wolfish eyes, they blushed crimson with shame and quickly clutched their baskets to their chests, trying to escape.

Wu Ye stood in the middle of the path, blocking them with one hand: “Hey, you two great beauties, where do you think you’re going?”

Xi Shi was already trembling with fear, but Zheng Dan mustered her courage and said, “Where we go is none of your business!”

Wu Ye grinned slyly: “Oh, Sister Zheng, don’t be mad. Stay and keep me company.”